


Empty Chairs and Empty Tables

by InkedConstellations



Series: 23 Emotions Challenge [3]
Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-24 20:54:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4934932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkedConstellations/pseuds/InkedConstellations
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He'd always been there by Kanda's side. Always smiling. An eternal light.</p><p>Kanda knew from the beginning things couldn't stay this way forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Empty Chairs and Empty Tables

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [23emotions](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/23emotions) collection. 



> **Prompt:**  
>  Dead Reckoning (n.): to find yourself bothered by someone’s death more than you would have expected, as if you assumed they would always be part of the landscape, like a lighthouse you could pass by for years until the night it suddenly goes dark, leaving you with one less landmark to navigate by—still able to find your bearings, but feeling all that much more adrift.
> 
> Yes I stole the title from that really sad song in Les Mis.  
> It fit and I really like it.  
> So Shhhhhhhhhhh.  
> This is actually my favorite fic I've written in a long while. I hope it's well received~

Kanda found himself looking over his shoulder more frequently now.

He pretended he wasn't disturbed by the lack of noise, that he wasn't expecting to see white hair and blue eyes and a smile so wide it seemed to split the boy in half.

He pretended he wasn't disappointed every time his gaze was met by the cold of stone and empty hallways. 

It seemed as though everyone was less cheerful now. Like the boy had been a ball of light that blazed into their bleak world and made them laugh, and now he was gone nothing seemed funny anymore. Kanda had hated that light, felt blinded by the whites of his teeth, but now that everything was dark again he still couldn't see. Every time he closed his eyes, spots danced behind his eyelids, like he had been staring at a candle for too long, and the flame had burned everything else from his vision.

He would have liked that, being compared to a flame. Someone who burned himself out, living so fully that it was impossible to notice the wax melting low. Except he wouldn't have been nearly so pessimistic about the metaphor, instead claiming it just meant he was a star to warm them on cold nights and perform tricks at night.

Even Komui seemed less cheerful, his smiles muted when he patted Lenalee on the shoulder, mutely handing her tissues as he pretended not to notice the circles beneath her eyes, red and puffy from crying. Lavi no longer came poking around Kanda's meditation, instead holing himself up with the Bookman. No one was quite sure what they were doing. No one was sure they wanted to know, especially when the old man seemed more shriveled than ever, and Lavi's remaining eye shone with hard determination instead of mischief. Even Jerry no longer cracked jokes, silently putting away the extra food.

It was unexpectedly lonely to eat alone. Kanda kept his shoulder's tense, ready to be interrupted by a mountain of food and non-stop chatter, chopsticks steady but waiting to stab a golden ball in defense of his soba. Even if it never happened anymore, it seemed that old habits died hard. Kanda never thought he would miss being annoyed. In fact, he'd thought he would feel something akin to happiness when that false-cheered brat no longer bothered him. _He was never wrong, but this feeling was unlike anything he'd felt before and definitely not happiness._

The Golem was never seen anymore, unless you went down to the low, low levels. Beneath the science lab. Without either of his masters, the golden ball wandered aimlessly, preferring to either hover around Hevlaska and _his_ Innocence, or down by the coffin. It was a plain thing, simple black with a white cross. It wasn't any different from the other exorcist coffins, really. The only thing that made it special was the name inscribed on it.

_Allen Walker_

That was all.  
No other title, no distinguishing remarks, nothing to say how much he had made his mark on the gray stone walls, despite the short amount of time he'd been there.

Sometimes, even though he'd promised he wouldn't, even though he'd pretended to never care, to never think of that smile more than necessary to complete a mission, Kanda found himself standing in front of that coffin. It didn't hurt, not really. He hadn't allowed himself to cry, telling himself it was the natural order of things. Exorcists died. That was their job. He was a fool for getting attached in the first place. But still, something urged him to stand at the foot of that coffin and stroke one long finger along Timcampy's back, remembering the blood and the screaming and the absolute terror in Allen's eyes _his eyes reflected in Allen's, frightened for the first time_ as he realized he was dying. As he realized there would be no coming back this time, the Noah and the Innocence having killed him from the inside out, gutted his soul to the point where nothing could bring him back to being 'Allen'.

Kanda often felt this small, hollow space inside his chest, beneath the Om tattooed in stark black ink.  
And he kneels in front of that black coffin, resting his head on the cool wood and pressing his ear against the cross, as if he would hear a heartbeat beneath it.

When he stands and walks away, leaves the lonely little Golem behind, he is no less himself.  
But it still feels as though something is missing.


End file.
